One Word
by Grave Bells
Summary: A collection of drabbles created off one word and a pairing, which are given to me by others. Pairings vary. Requests accepted! Rated T because they can sometimes get slightly sexual.
1. BuJeet  Calendar

A/N: Hi there! Welcome to my drabbles. If you would like to request a drabble from me, please follow these simple steps:

1. Go to axmuffins (dot) tumblr (dot) com

2. Click "Tell Me a Story"

3. Send me ONE PAIRING and ONE WORD. It can be any pairing; I will write anyone. It can be any prompt. BUT THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE. Like Highlander.

Any prompt requests sent to me via review or anything else related to any website that isn't my Tumblr Ask Box will be ignored. Tumblr Only, please.

And now, on to our first drabble~!

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><p>flamingzebra asked:<strong> Bujeet, calendar<strong>

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><p><strong>.<br>**

The 17th of December was circled in pink marker on Buford's calender, but he couldn't remember why.

He'd just opened the calender to December and seen the date circled; he had no idea what has happened on that day or why it might have been remotely important. It was the _17th_, what could have possibly happened that could have meant anything?

He even woke up on the morning of the 17th and ignored the pink circle. Clearly if he hadn't remembered it by now, it must not have been anything, right?

He was flattered when Baljeet suddenly offered to take him out to a nice restaurant, but by the end of the evening his boyfriend had become very upset with him.

_"Do you not remember what today is?"_

_"I even circled it on your calender!"_

Buford had no idea what today was.

Baljeet had practically thrown his napkin at the stalkier man before running out into the snow.

Oh, Buford fucked up big time. Something important _had_ happened today and he'd forgotten of it's existence. Now he was chasing an upset Indian teenager down a crowded, slick sidewalk, and there was someone yelling at him to do something and he wasn't even paying attention anymore because he just _knew_ the love of his life thought he just didn't care enough to remember.

"Baljeet, stop!"

Finally catching up, he seized the smaller male by the arm and practically had to force him into his chest. Baljeet was still wriggling and cursing at him, but he was considerably stronger and refused to break the hug.

"It's our one year anniversary, isn't it?" Buford whispered into his ear, and the mention of the event caused Baljeet's violence to die-down. "I'm sorry, it's not that I don't think it's important…" He squeezed Baljeet a little tighter. "… But our time together has flown by so fast; sometimes I have to remind myself that this is real, that you're really mine. I can't even begin to believe you've been by my side for a whole year already."


	2. FerbJeet  Doubtful

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><p><strong>Anonymous asked: Ferbjeet - Word: doubtful<strong>

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><p>.<p>

Baljeet sighed, slouching over in his seat outside the Principal's office. There was a college form tightly clenched in his hands, and he could do little more than stare at the blank space where the Principal was supposed to sign. There was this churn in his gut; he knew the form wasn't going to get signed. He was asking to take more classes at a local community college while also being enrolled in high school. He was overbooked in school NOW, and to ask to be enrolled in even MORE courses? He couldn't imagine what would possess the principal to let him do such a thing.

But…. he just really wanted these courses on his college applications.

"This is a strange place to see you."

Baljeet looked up, the familiar smoothness and accent in the voice speaking to him making him flush pink. "Oh, hello Ferb."

_Oh yeah, Ferb was an Office Aid this period._

"What are you doing outside the principal's office?" Ferb asked, shoving his hands in his high pockets.

"Uh, I-I am trying to get him to sign a concurrent enrollment form," Baljeet mumbled, suddenly embarrassed by his attempts to gain more credits. "But I do not think he will go for it."

"Well why not?"

The Indian blinked up at Ferb's handsome face. "Huh?"

"You can do it. You can always do it," Ferb said, smiling gently. "And you want it, don't you?"

Baljeet hid his face behind his paper. _Dammit, why did Ferb have to grow into such an attractive man?_ "I-I suppose I do…"

"If you tell him that, he'll understand. He's pretty supportive." Ferb reached over and ruffled Baljeet's soft curls. "Don't doubt it so much. You're a beast."

Baljeet's face was practically on fire now. "Oh, no no no, I am nowhere _near_ a 'beast', definitely not."

Ferb sighed a little, then pulled the paper from Baljeet's fingers. He leaned over and pressed his lips against the other boy's forehead.

"You _are_," he insisted when he pulled away. "Now go back to class. I'll get this signed for you and give it back at lunch, okay?"

His brain almost completely fried from the unexpected affection, Baljeet just whimpered in acknowledgement, stood from his chair, and idly shuffled away.


	3. BuJeet Finkies

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><p><strong><span>shpnami<span> asked: Finkies! B2!  
><strong>

A/N: I feel like I might have made this more like a SPECKIES prompt and not a FINKIES prompt… but whatever lol.

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><p>.<p>

It had once been said by a certain Phineas Flynn that Finkies and Speckies were more alike than they were different.

Even after the battle that ensued the very same day that brought the two fandoms together, Baljeet had solemnly believed Finkies and Speckies were still just as different as ever. It was just now known that they could potentially work together.

After all, Buford was an Odof Underhump cosplayer. And he had _nothing_ in common with Buford. His main cosplay was an Almordian Venk-Sloth, for god's sake. He admitted that with a little help they could work together peacefully, but… No. Finkies and Speckies would ALWAYS be different.

Of course, Baljeet kept that mindset up into his late teens. Nothing would change, not even after he and Buford had decided to start dating steadily.

But then one day he ended up at a convention, and he was under the impression his friends would not be there. As such, he'd pulled together a cosplay of Karney Xenon, a scantily-clad plot-driver slave boy from Episodes 85-100 of Space Adventure. I mean, he didn't have a bad body, so why not show it off to people he's never met and who would never see him again?

But while he was there, he ran into Buford.

And Buford was, coincidentally, cosplaying Harold Inferno, who Baljeet had once heard was an evil character who captured young innocent men and brainwashed them into being his obedient slaves.

… Baljeet couldn't remember how long it'd taken Buford to heft him over his shoulder and run them back to his hotel room to fuck, but he averaged it somewhere around how fast Lump Sharkboard's ship went when it exceeded light speed and jumped dimensions.

… Well, maybe they _weren't_ so different after all.


	4. PerryFord Handcuffs

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3. Send me ONE PAIRING and ONE WORD. It can be any pairing; I will write anyone. It can be any prompt. BUT THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE. Like Highlander.

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><p><strong><span>bgyoshi<span> asked: FUCK ONE WORD. HANDCUFFS, WHIPPED CREAM, BONDAGE... PERRY/BUFORD. I DARE YOU.**

A/N: I picked Handcuffs. I was also weeping in horror so it's VERY short. xP

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><p>.<p>

Buford had always thought there was something fishy about Perry. And then there was this one time when he stumbled about the little monotreme sneaking away, and oh-ho-ho, THAT had NOT gone over well. No sir.

He didn't really remember EVERYTHING that had happened that night, but he remembers being hit over the head, and then there was a bed, and handcuffs, and all sorts of things he didn't really want to remember. He only knew that he could never, _ever_, look at a platypus the same way ever again. _Never. Again._


	5. BuJeet Remote

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3. Send me ONE PAIRING and ONE WORD. It can be any pairing; I will write anyone. It can be any prompt. BUT THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE. Like Highlander.

Any prompt requests sent to me via review or anything else related to any website that isn't my Tumblr Ask Box will be ignored. Tumblr Only, please.

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><p><strong><span>shpnami<span> asked: Remote. B2.**

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><p><strong>.<br>**

Having custody of the TV remote was like being God.

The two boys living in the one-bedroom apartment had terribly different tastes in entertainment, and whoever got to the remote first got to pick what they watched. Unfortunately for Baljeet, Buford was much bigger and much stronger than he was, and he lost almost every battle for the remote. Buford would turn on sports, Baljeet would be bored out of his mind, and their time spent together would end them not even paying attention to one another. Eventually Baljeet would just go get his netbook and lean against the armrest of the couch, and Buford would be so into whatever game he was watching that he'd be whooping and hollaring and completely ignoring Baljeet anyway.

Buford knew how to manipulate God, as well. If Baljeet got the remote somehow and became Lord of the TV, Buford only had to distract him with sex to get out of watching boring shows on history or bacteria. Baljeet was usually easily convinced of allowing such a distraction, because even if he tried to focus on the TV he wouldn't know what was going on with Buford's hands all over him.

But Baljeet was getting tired of putting up with sports when Buford refused to put up with education.

So the next time they sat down to watch TV together, Baljeet had fought and wrestled valiantly for custody. Buford still won, of course, but he didn't have very much time to celebrate before Baljeet was suddenly strattling his lap and being uncharacteristically open to initiating something intimate between them.

Tired of never getting to watch what he wanted to watch, Baljeet spent the next handful of hours being the biggest source of sexual frustration to Buford he'd ever been. And at the end of the night, Baljeet refused to let the brunette sleep in the bed.

After that, if Baljeet wanted the remote, well, he got it.


	6. PerryMonogram Ice

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3. Send me ONE PAIRING and ONE WORD. It can be any pairing; I will write anyone. It can be any prompt. BUT THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE. Like Highlander.

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><p><strong>Anonymous asked: Perry, Monogram<br>Ice**

A/N: ;A; I feel like any pairing I write with Perry is going to end up weird feeling.

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><p>.<p>

Perry and Major Monogram had both agreed that the prank was terrible. They were horrible, horrible people, but if pulling it off meant they could possibly spend some time alone together, then it was worth it.

The two had devised a plot to get Carl and Doofenschmirtz out of their hair: Ice. Lots and lots of ice.

Doofenschmirtz had once created a 'Frozen Wasteland-inator" that turned anything it hit into, well, a frozen wasteland. All they had to do was duplicate it, then freeze over Doof and Carl's houses.

After much (and by much I mean 3 minutes) of humming and hawing over whether or not it would be a good idea, the two decided to go ahead and do it.

Two frozen buildings later, Major Monogram was carrying a very content little platypus down to the park, where they spent the majority of the afternoon lying around under a tree exchanging stories (and by exchanging I mean Monogram spent the whole time jabbering on about nothing and Perry chattered once in a while). But it was peaceful, and serene, and they didn't want the day to end. On the way back, Perry cuddled up against Monogram's chest and fell asleep, and upon reaching headquarters Monnogram didn't have the heart to wake him up.

But eventually Carl and Doof's houses would thaw and when that happened they couldn't be seen together like this, so he drove him back to his Host family and quietly slipped him into the backyard. Perry was a little distraught when he woke up without the warmth of Monogram's arms, but the knowledge that all he had to do to get a little more time in the future was to cover everyone's buildings in ice soothed him.


	7. PhineasFerb Flowers

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><p><strong>Anonymous asked: PhineasFerb: flowers**

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><p><strong>.<br>**

Phineas was never down. He was always the upbeat guy; he's who you went to when you were down because you knew his chipper personality would pull you out of your dumps. He was always overflowing with imagination and joy and butterflies.

It was all kinds of weird to see him depressed.

_"Losing love is like a window in your heart; everybody see's you're blown apart."_

A perfect line for what had just happened. Isabella had broken up with him in a fiery rage of anger towards his priorities, and everyone could see every word of that argument etched into his sullen face. Phineas spent more time with Ferb, worrying about Ferb, and tending to Ferb's every silent whim than he ever payed attention to Isabella. Ferb had been a permanent third wheel.

Phineas had greatly treasured Isabella and her friendship, but as the days post-breakup wore on he found himself a little… lifted. He could spend all the time with Ferb he wanted; no noisy girlfriend to try and occupy his time. And with that absence came the absence of someone to daydream about. Daydreaming about Isabella had always felt forced, but all of a sudden he was finding himself thinking about Ferb… He liked the smell of his shampoo, and he'd always been intrigued by his step-brother's accent, and there was something… cute?… about his silent demeanor.

About a week and a half after the fantasies began, Phineas came home to a bouquet of red Roses and Baby's Breath neatly wrapped and presented on the foot of his bed. Sitting in front of it was a small white envelope, addressed to Phineas himself.

Curious and flattered, Phineas peeled open the envelope and pulled out an equally small piece of cream cardstock.

Sprawled across it's surface in what Phineas immediately recognized as Ferb's smooth, fluid cursive were only two words.

_'Be mine?'_


	8. BaljInger Hamsters

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Any prompt requests sent to me via review or anything else related to any website that isn't my Tumblr Ask Box will be ignored. Tumblr Only, please.

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><p><strong>Anonymous asked: balinger hamsters<strong>

A/N: I admit I know very little about Ginger's character (besides that she keeps getting her cute boy patches ripped off for liking Baljeet), so I apologize if she's OOC in any way.

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><p>.<p>

He'd never bought such an important gift before. He'd never bought something so big he'd had to talk to their parents before buying to make sure they were okay with it. He was nervous. So, so, so nervous.

Maybe she didn't want them.

He'd heard her telling the other girls she REALLY REALLY A MILLION TIMES _REALLY_ wanted some, but…. No, she'd probably changed her mind. Why would he have ever considered buying such a thing for her? Really, now he was just going to embarrass himself at her party.

He stared at her front door for a few minutes, a huge wrapped box and a tiny little cage covered in a cloth hefted up in his arms.

_I should just leave._

Sighing, he turned on his heel and moved to step down off the porch.

"Baljeet! You came!"

He winced. _Crap_.

Turning back around, Baljeet smiled painfully behind his nervous blush. "G-Ginger! Of course I came," he replied, stepping forward to the door.

"Come in! Please! We're playing party games!" Ginger ushered, opening the door all the way to allow room for the large box.

The Indian managed to get himself inside and kick his shoes off without fainting, _oh gosh, she looks so excited to see me… oh gosh oh gosh,_ and took his present over to the coffee table where her parents were sitting with several other fireside girls (including Isabella), Phineas, Ferb, and Buford. He gulped, as he gently sent the box down, and gave the adults in front of him a scared look. Oh dear, he'd never been good with girls and if he messed this up…

Ginger's mother smiled and nodded sweetly to him.

Baljeet took a deep breath, then turned back to where Ginger was taking a seat in the circle of kids.

"Ginger?" he fumbled a moment with his words, and he was twiddling his thumbs and looking everywhere except the birthday girl, "Um, I know it is not time for presents, but… Y-your p-parents and I agreed beforehand that, well, um…. M-Maybe you should open my present _now_…"

Ginger was already on her feet and scampering over by the time Baljeet had even finished explaining. "OKAY!" she exclaimed, practically throwing herself at the two stacked objects. Realizing her over-enthusiam, she coughed. "I-I mean… Yeah okay. Whatever."

Baljeet stepped aside to allow proper access to the presents, and glanced over at his friends as Ginger examined the cloth covered one. Both Isabella and Phineas grinned at him, Ferb gave him a thumbs up, and Buford just stared off at the gift with his usual frown.

He looked back over in time to see Ginger pull the cloth off the cage. She gasped, her hands over her mouth.

Skittering around inside the tiny transport cage were two of the cutest little dwarf hamsters, one a sandy-brown and the other black.

The excited squeal that emitted from Ginger's throat could _not_ have been human.

"OHMYGOD THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU_THANKYOU_ AAAAHHHHHHHHHH," she practically screamed, almost tackling Baljeet to the floor with the force behind her hug. Baljeet went beet red. _Hug her back, hug her back. _His arms twitched at the command, but he was ultimately too overwhelmed with the sudden smell of cherry blossoms and sugar and _Ginger_ that all forms of coherency just seemed to disappear.

"W… You're.. wel-come?" He finally managed out once Ginger had released him, but it was lost under another excited yell.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE COME ON LETS GO PLAY WITH THEM!"

There was the thundering of excited girls as the little hamsters were run down the hall and into Ginger's bedroom, and once the door slammed shut, the boys and the parents were left in a sudden silence.

"… I think she liked them, Baljeet," Ginger's father mused, sitting back against the couch.

Baljeet blinked owlishly at the man, then smiled brightly.

"Yea. Yeah, I guess she did."


	9. BuJeet Blanket

**If you would like to request a drabble from me, please follow these simple steps:**

1. Go to axmuffins (dot) tumblr (dot) com

2. Click "Tell Me a Story"

3. Send me ONE PAIRING and ONE WORD. It can be any pairing; I will write anyone. It can be any prompt. BUT THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE. Like Highlander.

Any prompt requests sent to me via review or anything else related to any website that isn't my Tumblr Ask Box will be ignored. Tumblr Only, please.

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><p><strong>PLEASE READ: <strong>I reserve the right to not use any of the prompts sent to me. Some of them have gotten a little wild, and while I HAVE tried to write for them, I am finding myself unable to pitch out anything decent. So if your request never shows up, I'm very sorry, but you probably sent me something too cracky for me to write correctly. I don't want to write anymore pulled-out-of-my-ass drabbles like the BufordPerry one. Thank you for understanding.

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><p><strong>Anonymous asked: BuJeet and Blanket.<strong>

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><p>.<strong><br>**

Buford shivered gently in his seat before the roaring fire. He was strangely cold; normally his bulk kept him warm in the chilly winter months. He frowned at the dancing fire providing no warmth, and crossed his arms across his bent knees. Part of him wished he could swallow his pride and get a blanket, but no, he had to be the manly tough guy. If he let a little cold affect him so… He'd be shamed.

The brunette tugged at his long sleeves. _Damn snowy weather. _

"You look cold." Buford blinked and turned to look towards the familiar voice, but found himself engulfed in a large, warm, microfiber blanket. Baljeet took a seat next to him in front of the hearth, a content smile on his face. A mug of what appeared to be hot chocolate was placed in front of Buford, and Baljeet took a sip from his own mug of something much lighter and more fragrant.

Buford frowned a little; despite being touched that Baljeet would give up his favorite blanket, the Indian himself looked even colder than he was. Baljeet was trembling to the point where the Chai sloshed a little in the glass.

"Dummy, get over here," Buford grumbled, opening one side of the blanket to allow space for Baljeet to cuddle against his side.

Baljeet smiled softly, "No no, that is for you."

Buford rolled his eyes. "You and I both know you're freezing. Stop being all 'noble' and c'mere."

Baljeet blinked once or twice, then shook his head and gave in. He set his mug down and crawled into Buford's side, snuggling close to the warm, larger body. Buford wrapped his arm around Baljeet's shoulders, sufficiently enclosing them both within the confines of the brown blanket.


	10. DoofCharlene Jar

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><p><strong>Anonymous asked: DoofenshmirtzCharlene: Jar**

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><p><strong>.<br>**

"Charlene!"

"What is it, Heinz?"

"Could you, uh, could you help me open this jar?"

Charlene Doofenshmirtz sighed, setting down the shirt she'd been folding. How was her husband so incapable? "I'll be right there!

When Charlene entered the kitchen moments later, she found the counter, floor, her husband, AND her screaming daughter covered in various kinds of baby food. Jars and jars were tipped over on the tile flooring and Heinz had clearly slipped in it more than once, not to mention Vanessa was still spitting up mashed peas onto her brand new jumper. Charlene gawked.

"My nice kitchen!" she yelped, dodging spilt piles of goop to reach Heinz, who was trying to pry open a jar of mashed beets with a butter knife. "Dammit Heinz, I thought I told you to let _me_ feed her!"

Heinz grumbled, surrendering the jar to his wife. "… I just wanted to help out, you know, geesh," he frowned, furrowing his brows when Charlene popped the lid right off. "You're so busy all the time and I feel like I don't do enough."

Charlene frowned and snatched a clean baby spoon from a drawer. "That's because whenever you 'help out', we end up having to scrub everything down, or steam clean the carpets, or repaint the walls, or fix the roof-"

"Hey! The roof was only ONCE, and it wasn't even my fault!"

"The point is, when you do something to help, you make it worse," the woman sighed, spooning the beets into her daughter's mouth. "Hence the disaster that is now the kitchen.

Heinz crossed his arms moodily when Vanessa slopped the food around in her mouth and swallowed. "I just, I don't want you to have to do everything all the time. It's not fair to you." He threw his arms up in frustration when Vanessa, once again, accepted the mashed beets. "I don't get it! Why won't she eat like that when _I_ feed her?

Charlene turned to her husband and shoved the jar into his hands. "Well, show me how you feed her, then."

He scooped up some food onto the spoon, then looked down at his daughter. She stared back up at him sourly.

"Here comes the choo-choo!" He chimed, 'driving' the spoon around in the air on it's way to Vanessa's mouth. "Chugga chugga chugga-"

Vanessa screamed and hit the jar and the spoon from her father's hands. The jar hit the counter and sent beet everywhere, and the spoon splattered on the floor.

Heinz growled. "See?"

Charlene sighed, and turned to retrieve a new jar of food and a new spoon. "Heinz, she hates the choo-choo train."

"What?" the man gasped in disbelief. "NO ONE hates the choo-choo train!"

"Except Vanessa." Charlene smiled sympathetically, handing her husband the next open jar. "Here, try again. No choo-choo this time."

Grumbling, he took a spoonful of apple and plum and held it out to Vanessa without saying a word. She blinked up at him, then smiled cutely and happily accepted the mouthful of food. Heinz pursed his lips, quickly loading the spoon with more. Vanessa opened her mouth and sat there, waiting to be fed

The brunette's eyes lit up. "Look! Look Charlene, she's letting me feed her!" he all but squealed, scooping a little dribble of puree off Vanessa's lip.

"There, see?" Charlene started, giving her husband a kiss on the cheek. "That wasn't so hard, was it honey?"

"No, no it wasn't!" Heinz grinned and puffed out his chest. "Could I feed her now?

"Well of course~" Charlene mused, giggling a little. "You can also clean up this mess when you're done."


	11. CandaceStacy Arm

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3. Send me ONE PAIRING and ONE WORD. It can be any pairing; I will write anyone. It can be any prompt. BUT THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE. Like Highlander.

Any prompt requests sent to me via review or anything else related to any website that isn't my Tumblr Ask Box will be ignored. Tumblr Only, please.

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><p><strong>Anonymous asked: CandaceStacy: Arm**

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><p><strong>.<br>**

"_CANDACE! _Oh gosh, I'm SO SORRY! Are you okay!

Stacy quickly picked herself up from the cement and scrambled for her best friend, who she'd just accidentally run into and subsequently knocked to the ground. She grabbed ahold of Candace's arm to help her up.

Candace practically screamed bloody murder at the pull.

Stacy immediately let go, horrified guilt crossing her face as Candace's eyes poured tears. She knelt down and carefully helped the other teenager cradle the arm to the ginger's chest. "Oh gosh, oh man, I'm so so so sorry! Oh jeeze, I broke it, didn't I? Shit!"

Candace shook her head quickly, trying to smile at her best friend through the tears and pain. "No, Stacy, it's okay! I should have been looking where I was going! Besides, it's just a sprain," she said quickly, moving to stand and prove she was fine. The instant she went to bend her wrist, pain surged up the limb and caused her to yelp.

"Oh, that's _not_ a sprain," Stacy said, gently feeling the top of Candace's wrist. "Shit, I totally broke it. God, I'm so sorry Candace!"

"It's okay! Honest!" Candace pleaded, smiling softly. "My mom and dad are out at an antique show though; can you drive me to get it fixed?"

Stacy nodded quickly, wrapping an arm around the other girl to help her to her feet. "Of course! Come on, my house is a few doors down."

The Japanese girl spent the entire drive to John Kennedy Medical Center apologizing profusely for what she'd done. She'd never meant to run into Candace like that. She didn't mean to knock her down and break her wrist. She couldn't believe herself, and god, she felt so incredibly bad about it that she was offering to act as Candace's right arm until it'd healed. She'd done things like this for Candace before, but those were times when the other girl had been ill, or grounded, or something that wasn't directly Stacy's fault. But now she felt so guilty; in truth, she coudn't even remember a time where she felt as terrible as she did now.

They arrived at the hospital in no time, and Candace was checked in and they were ushered away into an x-ray room once a nurse was free. The hospital notified Linda and Lawrence, who promised to be over as soon as they could. In the meantime, Stacy kept close by Candace's side as she was led around and told to do things. Eventually, they were sitting in a long room with lightboards on the walls and several children who were also getting various body parts casted. The nurse went to retrieve the x-rays and the doctor, leaving Stacy and Candace "alone" on a small padded table.

They were quiet for some time, a heavy air hanging over their heads.

"… I probably deserved this, anyway," Candace mumbled suddenly, sounding a little grumpy. She rested her head on her not-slinged arm and pouted.

Stacy blinked at her in disbelief. "What? Why would you even think that?"

Candace sighed. "I'm such a terrible friend to you all the time. Looking back at that first summer my brother's started building stuff, I was a totally dick to you all the time. And have been since," she blew some hair out of her face. "I can't believe you're still friends with me."

"What are you talking about?" Stacy snapped, crossing her arms, "You're my best friend! You're incredible, and you're NOT a dick, and even when you _are_ it's not like it's without purpose! You don't deserve this, you deserve to be pampered and respected. You're loyal and motivated and secretly love all the people you hate, and that's why _I've_ secretly loved you-ooooo…" Stacy's eyes widened and her face flushed, but she almost seamlessly recovered by adding, "-like a really really good spectacular friend would."

Candace blinked at her best friend for a moment, then laughed. "Oh Stacy, you've never been good at hiding things from me," she chuckled, reaching over with her good arm to grab Stacy's shoulder. She pulled the other girl down to her level, then pressed a firm kiss to her lips. Stunned, the Japanese girl just stared blindly at the arch of Candace's nose until she pulled away. And even once they were no longer connected, she just stared speechlesly.

Candace laughed again and patted her arm. "… And that's why I've always secretly loved you, too. Ya know… like a really, _really_ good spectacular friend would."


	12. Human PerryShmirtz Coffee

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><p><strong>Anonymous asked: human!PerryDoofensmirtz. Coffee. (love your stories! it's awesome to see a bujeet writer around)**

(thanks! :3 I'm sorry it took so long to get to your prompt!)**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>.<br>**

To some people, being asked to coffee by your arch-nemesis would be strange and unwelcome.

To Perry the recently-turned-into-a-human-apus, it was nothing more than a normal request.

Dr. Doofenshmirtz had accidentally hit him with a Turn-Animals-Humaninator he'd made to make an army of forest animals do his bidding, but he hadn't made anything that could reverse the effects. It'd been months now since then, and Doof had been inviting him to coffee every week to keep him informed about the progress of the Turn-Humans-to-Platypusesinator. He would talk about what went wrong in his last test, and what he thought he might be able to do to get it to work, but it was clear he was starting to give up hope that it would ever come to fruition.

Lately he'd also gotten into a habit of talking to Perry about what's wrong with his life, and what he wished he could change. What he thought of himself as a Scientist and what he thought of himself as a father. He didn't think good things about himself, Perry came to understand. He always lost his battles: in making a good invention, in going through with his plans, in love, in marriage, in child custody, and sometimes even in child-rearing. He had good intentions (well, on the home front anyway. The evil schemes were a different story, but they were still his life's dream), but he never seemed to be able to make anything right.

And Perry listened, because what was a good nemesis for, you know? He was no psychiatrist, but he knew that being there for the man was helping him.

After one particularly long rant about how Vanessa wasn't talking to him, how he was reaching the end of his ideas on how to fix Perry, and how he was really feeling pretty low about himself as a person, Doofenshmirtz set the coffee he'd stared at for an hour and a half on the table and smiled softly at the aqua-haired male across from him.

"Thank you, Perry the Platypus," he'd said, leaning back in his chair miserably, "For continuing to listen to me babble on like this."

But Perry just smiled supportively and tipped his fedora.

The next week he revealed to Perry that he'd accidentally broken the one family heirloom he'd inherited from his parents. He'd been keeping it safe because it was something Vanessa had always loved, and he was planning on giving it to her as a gift on her 18th birthday. He was completely devastated, because not only was it the one thing his dear mother had entrusted to him, he was hoping it would get his daughter to talk to him again.

"I am such a screw-up," he sighed, burying his long fingers into his uncombed brown hair. "How can one person become such a failure?"

Perry was pretty sure the pain in his chest was his heart breaking in half.

The not-a-pus adjusted his fedora on the back of his head, then leaned forward on the table and motioned for Doof to come closer. Confused but compliant, the 'doctor' did as he was told.

Perry reached forward and swiftly smacked him across the cheek.

Heinz squawked, immediately pressing a hand to the cheek. "Ow! Perry the Platypus, what was that for!" he cried, furrowing his brows. "Why would you do something like that?"

Perry sighed gently and rolled his eyes. Grabbing ahold of Doof's chin, he pushed forward and caught his thin lips in a warm embrace. They were locked there for several moments before Perry pulled back. A lopsided smile on his lips, he patted the other man's cheek lightly, and ran a thumb over his prominent cheek bone.

Doof blinked at the not-a-pus for what was probably only 3 seconds, then smiled. It was warm, an full of emotion, and so very unlike the doctor.

"Thank you, Perry the Platypus. Thank you."


	13. PhinBella Whiplash

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* * *

><p><strong>Anonymous asked: PhineasIsabella, whiplash**

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><p><strong>.<br>**

Phineas couldn't remember a time he'd ever felt so scared in his life.

He'd been waving to Mrs. Garcia-Shapiro and Isabella as they'd pulled out of their driveway, and the next thing he knew there was a UPS truck in their trunk and a light pole in their engine.

There was this incredible pressure in his chest like he wasn't breathing properly, and his heart was aching and his head was spinning, and all of a sudden he was across the street and trying to rip open the passenger door of the Garcia-Shapiro family coupe. But the doors were locked. He slammed on the windows with his fist, the sight of Isabella's mother slumped unconscious over the steering wheel and Isabella herself leaning limply against her door enough to send a wave of dread and nausea through his stomach.

He didn't realize he'd been screaming until he fumbled for his phone in his shorts and ultimately managed to drop it on the sidewalk.

The woman driving the UPS truck scrambled out of it's confines as soon as her seatbelt and physical stability allowed her to do so, and Phineas noticed through the windows as he tried to pry open Isabella's door that she was already on the phone with 911 and close to having a breakdown herself. He could sort of hear her panickedly telling the dispatch that the woman and child in the car were unconscious and that her brakes had failed, but there was this harsh thrum of adrenaline and blood muffling his hearing.

_If you're ever trapped in a car, remember that the very center of the window is the weakest spot. You hit it with enough force, and it will shatter._

Remembering his mother's words, he drew his fist back.

"If you break the window, you're going to rain glass on her."

Phineas whirled, and found an incredibly concerned Ferb standing behind him. He didn't need to glance around to realize that basically the whole street had come out of their houses to see what the commotion was.

"But Isabella—!"

A small, muffled moan caught the boys' attention, and the ginger whirled back around to find Isabella's eyes fluttering. Phineas immediately pressed his face against the glass.

"Isabella!"

The girl moaned again and shakily unstuck herself from the door. "Ph-phineas?" she called weakly, looking up at the window.

"Oh god, thank goodness!"

"Ph-phineas I'm scared," she choked, leaning against the door again. "My neck hurts, a-and my hands and feet are tingling…"

"Don't worry! Everything's going to be alright! There's an ambulance coming, so just sit tight okay?" Phineas sounded like he was trying to convince himself, as well as Isabella, that everything was going to be fine. His eyes had grown red and hot and he could have sworn his heart was ripping to pieces, and Isabella's mom still hadn't woken up yet, and what if something was wrong?

It was only a matter of moments before several police arrived and forced Phineas and Ferb away from the car to assess the collision, and several minutes after that two ambulances arrived. By then, Mrs. Garcia-Shapiro had awoken and unlocked the doors. The paramedics opened the doors and asked them questions about how they were feeling, and after brief conversations Isabella was carefully removed from the vehicle and laid out on a stretcher, and her mother was allowed to step out on her own. Isabella was wheeled to one of the ambulances, and despite being told not to, Phineas was hot on the heels of the paramedics.

After determining there that whatever had caused the pain and pins and needles was not life threatening, they allowed Mrs. Garcia-Shapiro to be treated for her minor cuts and bruises from the airbag before closing up the doors and heading off to the hospital. Phineas was granted permission to ride along by the mexican-jewish woman, who also had to convince the paramedics to let him come along.

Isabella was, thankfully, only diagnosed with Grade 1 Whiplash from the accident. The resulting pain was mild and only lasted for a few days, and she was diligent about keeping up with the neck movements and manipulations she was told to do to help recover as quick as possible. Phineas was by her side every day, helping her out with whatever she needed help with.

Even though it, in turn, brought them together, it made Phineas upset to know that it took such a horrible thing to happen to make him realize what he felt about her. He knew they were lucky that she'd slid by with such a mild case of whiplash, and what would he have done if something worse had happened to her?


	14. BuJeet Ring

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* * *

><p><strong>nucl3arw3ss3l asked: Bujeet. Ring.<strong>

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><p>Because I can, I'm totally dedicating this to CorieChan. Because I thought about our Bujeet roleplay the whole time I wrote it.<p>

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><p>.<p>

There was this one day when Buford realized he loved Baljeet. Looking back on the day, he acknowledged that at the time he was under the impression that the love he felt was the love you feel for a best friend. But because he had grown and learned just what it was to love someone, it became very clear to him that he admitted he loved Baljeet only after half a day away from him. Granted, he was under the impression Baljeet never wanted to see him again, but that's beside the point. He couldn't even go one day without the other boy, and they hadn't gone apart from one another ever since, excluding family vacations (which were a whole new level of torture, he'd found, because they were gone for days). They couldn't stand to be apart. He was a total wreck without Baljeet. Baljeet was a total wreck without him.

Clearly, they were already in love that summer when they were 10. They just didn't know what to name the emotion.

That night, when they'd gotten 'back together' as bully and nerd, Buford remembered spending the night at Baljeet's house. He'd never stayed the night there before, and his mother was concerned because she felt ten was so young to be staying a night away from her, but in the end she gave in because the Rai's lived a block away. The night started out pretty awkward, as neither of them had had a sleepover before (it was just such a girly thing to do), but they'd both agreed that they had some things to talk about, and honestly, he was pretty sure they just didn't want to be separated again after 'finally' reuniting.

But before bed, after they'd changed into their pj's, Baljeet quietly lead Buford out of his bedroom on the first floor and up a narrow staircase at the end of the hall. Which was confusing, because the Rai's house was clearly a one-story building, but upon reaching the top it became clear that the room they were entering was an attic. It had low ceilings, and it was musty and old-smelling, and the walls weren't plastered or insulated in the slightest. It was packed with boxes and things that had clearly moved with them from India, and Buford was intrigued and compelled to start rummaging, but Baljeet just kept motioning for him to follow across the room. It took all he had not to peek under the sheet covering what looked to be a gorgeous Baby Grand, but the curiosity of what Baljeet was up to kept him moving.

Upon reaching the far end of the room, Baljeet jumped for a string hanging off a door in the ceiling, and pulled down a folding ladder. After unlocking a heavy, flat door at the top of the ladder with a key on a nearby box, he pressed it open and climbed out.

There's this snapshot memory of staring out the hole in the attic and seeing an incredible looking star-field above them in the night sky lodged in Buford's head. (Looking back, of course, it was an average suburban night sky, but the streetlights were out that night so you could see a few more stars.)

The two spent what felt like hours just sitting up on Baljeet's nearly flat roof, huddled together in a blanket and just listening to the nighttime sounds of summer and staring at the sky in silence. Baljeet was an early-to-bed boy though, so at some point he'd begun to doze and leaned against Buford's shoulder.

It'd startled Buford at first, but this swelling comfort and warmth in his chest persuaded him to rest his own head on Baljeet's.

And for some reason, he could only remember this one sound byte from that whole evening:

_"I am so very glad that we are still best friends."_

And it'd made Buford feel so important, like someone _needed_ him. Even though he picked on him and called him names and teased him, Baljeet was _happy_. (Which, again, looking back on the situation could not have been very healthy thinking on Baljeet's part at all, but when Buford finally quit the petty name-calling and wedgies and wet-willies they'd only grown closer and more emotionally involved with one another, so there must have been some honest affection in there on both sides to begin with.)

No one had been happy to be close to him before. Everyone was scared of him, or just friendly to him. If he disappeared, Phineas and Ferb and Isabella, they'd all be sad, but they'd get over it soon enough. Baljeet, though, he'd be devastated. Depressed. Something would be missing from him forever. And, god damn if that didn't make Buford feel special.

He'd carried Baljeet back down off the roof that night, the boy was so light he could carry him with one hand for god's sake, and it was all he could do _not_ to crawl into bed with him and fall asleep. But he still had to be assertive and manly and a _bully_, don't you know, so if he did something as silly and weak and crazy as that no one would ever respect or fear him again. So he took up his spot on the air mattress on the floor, and cuddled his pillow instead of rest his head on it.

Buford had always thought of that night as the best night of his life.

That is, until he and Baljeet had first made love and fallen asleep in each other's arms.

And even that was bumped to when Buford had proposed, and Baljeet had accepted.

Which then became tonight, the night of their wedding.

And maybe someday the best night of his life would be changed to some other adventure they embark on in the future, but somehow, he doubted it.

Nothing had felt as indescribably amazing as putting a ring on Baljeet's finger, or having a ring put on his.


	15. PhinBella Clothes

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* * *

><p><strong>Anonymous asked: Phinbella clothes<strong>

I apologize for the length.**  
><strong>

* * *

><p>.<strong><br>**

Phineas slid Isabella's wool coat of her shoulders without her asking, and folded it in half over his arm before tossing it gently over the back of the couch. He shut the door to the apartment to block out the wind and the rain, then fetched a towel.

"Such a gentleman," Isabella purred, pleased with his actions. She carefully dried her long hair with the towel as best she could, then flipped it back over her shoulders.

"This gentleman has a very special evening planned for his beautiful birthday girl," Phineas responded, a sensuous growl lacing his lips as he took her hand. They glided into the combined living room dining room, where a romantic candle-lit dinner for two was laid out on a white table cloth. "For starters, we have a tossed green salad with candied walnuts and tomato, just the way you like it," he pulled out her chair and motioned elegantly for her to sit, "Then, a delicious vegetable lasagne with an artichoke to share," he pushed in her chair and leaned down slightly to speak next to her ear, "And, after a desert of warm bread pudding…"

He smirked, his fingertips gliding themselves up her arm and causing her to shiver. He lowered his voice to a mere whisper,

"We can finally get you out of those wet clothes."


	16. BufElla Soup

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* * *

><p><strong>Anonymous asked: Buford and Isabella: Soup<strong>

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><p><strong>.<br>**

"Would you stop squirming!"

"Maybe I'd stop if YOU stopped!"

"I'm trying to help you!"

"No you're not, you're trying to force feed me a bowl of some garbage I want nothing to do with!"

Isabella's back straightened, her eyes wide and full of hurt as Buford insulted her lovingly prepared home-cooked meal. She basically threw the bowl down on his nightstand and whirled from her seat on the edge of his bed.

"You know what? Fine! If you don't want me to help you find something you can keep down then you shouldn't've asked me to come over!" Isabella turned to march out of the sick teen's bedroom, "I slaved all morning over that _garbage_ but I can see you think embarrassing me - "

She was stopped by a large, clammy hand encircling her wrist.

"Wait- Isabella!"

She only turned her head to look at Buford, and it was all she could do not to swoon and coo at him. He was making the CUTEST puppy face.

"I'm sorry, you know I love your cooking," Buford apologized gently, pulling her back over to his bedside, "Bein' stuck in bed all day just makes me snappy. I'll eat the soup. I promise."

"Good, I knew you'd see it my way!" Isabella smirked proudly, fluffing her skirt and grabbing up the bowl before daintily seating herself next to Buford, "Now say ahhh~"

Buford immediately frowned and narrowed his eyes. "Hey wait a second, you tricked me! You little weasel!" he growled, curling his hands, "You weren't insulted by that at all!"

"Nope," Isabella beamed, spooning up some of the chicken soup, "But you promised to eat it so now you gotta!"

"You bitch! I can't believe you manipulated me like that!" Buford snarled, slamming a fist down on the sheets. After a moment his look of hatred morphed into something more sly and pleased. "And it's sexy as hell. You're _SO_ lucky I'm sick and can't fuck you into oblivion."

Isabella practically cackled, feeding the "bully" a spoonful of soup. "I've found your secret weakness," she grinned, leaning in a little and wrinkling her nose cutely, "Now I can get you to bend to my every whim!"

"Only if I get to bend you over a table every time you do it," Buford quipped, licking his lips and motioning for her to feed him more soup.

The Volcano Scout rolled her eyes, but spooned more soup for him. "Gee, I don't know whether to feel lucky or creeped out that all it takes to get my boyfriend in the mood is to boss him around."

"Hey, no one bosses me around quite like you~"

Isabella smirked in amusement and rolled her eyes again. "Just shut up and eat your soup."


	17. DjangoMilly Clay

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><p><strong>Anonymous asked: Django and Milly: Clay <strong>

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><p>.<p>

"That's really cute, Django!"

The brunette glanced up at his ceramics teacher, who had placed her self at his side to see what he was making. He turned a light pink and smiled.

"Thanks Mrs. Whelchel. I've been working really hard on it!" he chimed, rolling some of the grey substance between his hands.

The short haired woman blinked at it, impressed, then carefully reached out for it. "May I?" she asked, motioning to the wooden slab it was being constructed on.

"No, go ahead."

The woman delicately picked the sculpture up from the desk and held it at eye level. She raised her brows, turning it 360 before her as she studied it.

It was an ape. An INCREDIBLE ape. Django was far from done with it but it was really obvious what it was, and considering Django had never handled clay before in his 12 years of life, it was very very accurate and just. It was stunning.

"This is really amazing, Django," Mrs. Whelchel breathed, daintly setting it back down in her amazement. "That's not even done and you could be winning awards with it. What inspired you to make an ape?"

Django stared at her a moment, his face visibly growing hot. He set his roll of clay down and shrugged his shoulders embarrassedly, accidentally wiping a bit of clay on his nose.

"N-nothing really."

As if on cue, a pudgy, bubbly girl spotted with freckles passed by Django's table, and spotted his in-progress primate.

"Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed suddenly, halting immediately upon laying eyes on the masterpiece. Her curly mass of hair bounced cutely and she leaned her hands on the table to get a better look at it. Her lips stretched into an excited grin. "This is super amazing! Django, you know how to sculpt apes?"

"H-hi Milly," the boy mumbled, his face darkening (a fact that didn't go unnoticed by Mrs. Whelchel). "N-Not really, I was just…. messing around a little… sorta…"

"Well it's absolutely incredible! I love apes!" Milly continued, her eyes practically sparkling. "They're like, my most favorite mammal ever!"

Django looked everywhere BUT Milly. "Well uhm… If-if you want it… Y-y-you can have it when I'm done…." he mumbled shyly. Truth be told, he was only making it because he wanted to give it to her. He found out her favorite animal and all he'd wanted to do was make something for her. So he'd found a bunch of reference pictures of apes and viola.

"ARE YOU _SERIOUS_!" Milly practically screamed, stomping her feet and wiggling around and generally causing a lot of commotion in her excitement. "Yes yes a million times _yes!_" She practically flew around the table and enveloped the shy boy in the biggest hug she could muster. "I can't believe it! !"

"I-it's not a problemmm…" Django murmured, savoring the contact but lacking the guts to hug back.

Milly, overwhelmed with delight, pressed a kiss to Django's cheek before squealing her way across the art classroom to where her tablemates were working on their projects. Mrs. Whelchel grinned down at the flustered boy below her and ruffled his hair.

"Ah, there's always a wonderful reason to your inspiration, Django," she puffed, the young love around her making her feel giddy. "Perhaps I should make the next project Valentine's themed."


	18. CandEremy Third

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><p><strong>ALSO GUYS, PLEASE CHECK OUT THE LINK ON MY PROFILE PAGE. A very dear friend of mine is having some problems, and I'm offering drabblesone-shots to anyone who donates $10 to her. The fandoms I write for are listed in the post, SO PLEASE take a peek! Even if you don't want a drabble from me, we have a number of AMAZING artists also willing to create something for you for a cheap donation!  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Anonymous asked: CandaceJeremy: Third**

_((Please note that I don't know like anything about giving birth I just pretended like I do.))_

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><p><em>.<br>_

"Push, Mrs. Johnson! Push!"

Candace, long since over the awkward feeling of having her legs in stirrups, held her breath and clenched her teeth as she continued to push and push for the umteenth time in a half an hour. Her face was drenched in sweat, her bright orange hair pulled into an incredibly messy bun and sticking to her forehead. There were bags under her eyes; she was exhausted beyond belief.

Being in labor for nearly 17 hours could do that to you.

"He's crowning! Just a bit more, Mrs. Johnson!"

Candace took a quick breath, then pushed as hard as she could. Her fingers gripped the sides of the bed and shook in her physical distress, until finally the Doctor emerged from between her legs with her third child. She practically collapsed back against the bed after the final delivery of everything else, panting and watching tiredly and anxiously as the small human was whisked away to ICU.

"When can I see my sons?" she asked quietly once the team had exited and left her with the doctor and the midwife. "Will Jeremy be able to see that one, too?"

"Taking them to the ICU is just standard procedure for premature births. But it's quite common for twins to be premature," the doctor mused as she and her midwife began cleaning up. "They're just going to check a few things to make sure everything is formed and whatnot, but they should be back here within an hour or so. Your husband will be notified when the second baby is brought into the ICU."

"When can my daughter come in?" Candace huffed, wiping her forehead with a towel.

"We're going to get everything cleaned up, and after we give you some stitches for the episiotomy and you're all settled in the rest of your family may visit you if you desire."

_Twins._ Candace laughed to herself. _TWINS._ Who could have guessed when we were younger that we'd end up having twins? It was always Xavier and Amanda, Xavier and Amanda…But THREE children in the Johnson household? Nope. Definitely not planned for. Not even after Candace had seen her future.

So it'd be Amanda, Xavier and Fredrick. Fred. They'd already started calling him Fred.

Candace couldn't help but chuckle lightly.

Fred, the surprise third child. Just like his Uncle Ferb.


	19. FerbElla Sweet

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* * *

><p><strong>Anonymous asked: Ferbella. Sweet. Make it happen.<strong>

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><p><strong>.<br>**

Ferb held out a finger.

Isabella's eyes lit up.

_FROSTING!_

Without a second thought, Isabella practically lept over the counter to wrap her lips around Ferb's finger. She pulled what she could of the thick buttercream from where it was perched with her tongue, and practically melted.

_Sweet. Strawberry buttercream. A little too airy but not so bad._ _Non-overwhelming flavor._

She emitted a rather pleased hum-sigh noise.

_Like a cloud. Melts almost immediately but lingers sweetly on the tongue._

"U-uh, Isabella."

Blinking, the Volcano Scout glanced up at Ferb as she licked the remaining buttercream from the pad of his finger only to find him beet-red. She lifted her brows curiously, then pulled her mouth from his hand with a small _pop!_

"What?" she asked, licking her lips.

Ferb just looked away, totally and completely embarrassed in his own Ferb-like manner.

It was all Isabella could do not to wiggle from the sheer cuteness radiating from him. Her eyes lit up when she spotted something on his cheek.

"Oh, hey, you you've got a little something on your cheek," she commented casually, leaning a little closer to look at it.

Ferb's eyes darted up to Isabella's face, and he hesitated a moment before patting at his right cheek. When he didn't find anything, he furrowed his brows a little and looked at his hand.

"No, silly~!" Isabella giggled, leaning just a little closer. "It's right here, see?"

Without warning, she flicked her tongue out and ran up a spot on Ferb's left cheek. Ferb went stiff, expecting that even less than he was expecting Isabella to eat from his finger, and when she pulled away all he could do was stare at her with a slightly slacked jaw and wide eyes.

Isabella giggled again once the spot of buttercream had melted on her tongue.

He didn't talk much and he didn't emote much, but _boy_ was it fun when Ferb got all flustered. Isabella loved it when he was genuinely without coherent response; and boy did she love being the cause of it.

Not to mention he was just cute as hell when he blushed.


	20. PhinJeet Kiss

**If you would like to request a drabble from me, please follow these simple steps:**

1. Go to axmuffins .tumblr .com

2. Click "Tell Me a Story"

3. Send me ONE PAIRING and ONE WORD. It can be any pairing; I will write almost anyone. It can be any prompt. BUT THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE. Like Highlander.

Any prompt requests sent to me via review or anything else related to any website that isn't my Tumblr Ask Box will be ignored. Tumblr Only, please.

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><p><strong>Anonymous asked: PhinJeet Kiss<strong>

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><p><strong>.<br>**

Baljeet just stared, his chest rising and falling in his breathlessness. He was sure his face was the darkest red possible, so much he could feel his ears burning as well. O-oh, he'd never been kissed like _that_.

Phineas wet his lips, a little breathless and warm himself.

"You look like you enjoyed that," he commented peppily, a gleeful smirk tugging at his mouth.

"O-oh, I always love kissing, but," Baljeet started, still trying to collect his coherency. "But _that_." His lip caught in his teeth and he exhaled loudly through his nose as he sunk against the wall.

"That was not a kiss," he breathed quietly, trembling lightly when Phineas reached out to run his fingers across his jawline.

The ginger couldn't help the predatory yet elated grin that stretched his lips.

"Nothing's too good to be true, 'Jeet," Phineas murmured, pressing closer to the shorter male (and taking into account the tenting he could feel already happening in Baljeet's skinny jeans), "And _that_ was definitely a kiss."

Baljeet worried his lip a little harder, having to shut his eyes when they were whispered against to try and hold back his urgings. God, he wasn't used to being given wobbly knees anymore. Normally HE was the one taking someone's breath away, not the other way around. Kissing was his one great weakness, and as such he always knew how to make ANYONE melt. But that, that was so much different than all the ways he knew. He couldn't help it when he pressed his hips.

"Where did you… learn that?" he asked, trying so very hard not to jump Phineas right then and there.

"A great magician never reveals his secrets," Phineas purred, nipping at the Indian's bottom lip in a teasingly light manner. "But…" He pressed his fingertips down into Baljeet's tight jeans.

"I'm sure as hell willing to perform it for you again."


	21. BuJeet Music

**If you would like to request a drabble from me, please follow these simple steps:**

1. Go to axmuffins .tumblr .com

2. Click "Tell Me a Story"

3. Send me ONE PAIRING and ONE WORD. It can be any pairing; I will write almost anyone. It can be any prompt. BUT THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE. Like Highlander.

Any prompt requests sent to me via review or anything else related to any website that isn't my Tumblr Ask Box will be ignored. Tumblr Only, please.

* * *

><p><strong>Anonymous asked: B2 - Music<strong>

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><p><strong>.<br>**

"What are ya doin'?"

Baljeet froze, his blood running cold at the all too familiar sound of Buford's pissed voice. He curled his knees closer to his chest, and peeked up at the very tall figure from under his brow.

"S-sitting."

Buford's eyes narrowed a little and Baljeet's heart skipped.

"Yea I can see _that_," Buford growled, shoving his hands in his pockets. "What are you doin' _here_?"

"Oh." Baljeet rested his chin on his knees and began to trace circles on the linoleum. He kept his face down this time, hiding the red that twinged his cheeks. If he told the truth, Buford would get mad at him, wouldn't he? "…I uh-"

"How long have you been sitting here?"

Baljeet pressed his finger into the floor. "About an hour and a half," he mumbled, almost incoherently.

Buford's frown deepened at his nerd's shyness.

"… How did you find me?" he asked sternly, standing over the sitting male like a looming tower.

Baljeet bit his lip, but didn't respond.

"_How did you find me?_" Buford asked a little louder, pulling his hands from his pockets.

"I stumbled upon you by accident-" Baljeet mumbled quickly, glancing back up. He cut himself off, and Buford's brow creased.

"But _what_?"

The Indian sighed softly and looked away, "… You don't have football practice on Tuesdays."

Buford blinked, a little caught off guard by the statement, but Baljeet continued before he could question him.

"You stay late and you come over here to the music room to play the piano. You play for about two and a half hours, and then you go home."

"Are you _spyin'_ on me or something!?" Buford snapped, curling his hands into fists. "I thought you trusted me!"

"I do! Buford, I do!" Baljeet gasped quickly, head whirling up at the other male. "I was just wandering around one day trying to clear my head and I heard someone playing!" He began to press himself up into a standing position, the sudden panic begining to wash from his face.

"It was so beautiful, and it was so relaxing…" he continued, softer, like he was recalling a gentle, warm touch. "I completely lost myself in the music and I felt so… so _good_ when it was done that I wanted to give my regards to whoever was playing. I thought it was the music teacher, but… When I looked inside I saw you."

Baljeet had been softly running his fingers over his lips and looking everywhere but Buford has he spoke, and therefore didn't catch the bright pink that'd stained his otherwise pale boyfriend's face. Buford was totally thrown off balance, and he just stood there wide eyed as the smaller boy continued.

"I… I know you do not like to show off your musical talent much and I thought you would be horribly embarrassed to know I had sat and listened to you play for hours," Baljeet's voice dropped back down to just above a mumble. He chewed his lip a moment. "… I left. And I told myself not to go back for the same reasons, but… The next Tuesday I found myself here again and running off when I heard you get ready to leave. I could not help it." Flushed and embarrassed, Baljeet glanced up at Buford finally.

"… Your music is beautiful and I love it. I am never as calm as I am Tuesday afternoons listening to you play."

Buford awkwardly scratched the back of his head, shifting his weight on his feet in an attempt to shake off the profound adoration and surprise and embarrassment and all the other hundreds of things he was feeling all of a sudden.

"… How long have you known I was doin' it?" he asked, wiping at his freckled nose like it would make the blood in his face disappear.

Baljeet shrugged lightly. "About two months."

There was a silence between them, where Baljeet leaned against the wall and rubbed his arm and Buford just stood there with his lips pulled thin. After a very long feeling minute, Buford stepped closer. Baljeet shifted a little when Buford rested his large hands on his slender hips, willing but still a little nervous.

"… Does listening to me play really make ya feel like that?" Buford asked quietly, almost in a whisper, as if he didn't believe it even though he was asking.

Baljeet looked up at the significantly taller male before nodding gently.

Buford lips pulled into this adorable half smile, his eyes brightening and his chest puffing out a little in his pride when Baljeet confirmed his hopes. He leaned down and pressed his nose into the space right behind Baljeet's ear, then gave it a small kiss.

"Maybe you should come inside the music room next time," he purred quietly, feeling the heat radiate off Baljeet's cheek. "I'll play somethin' just for you~"


	22. BuJeet Bandages

**If you would like to request a drabble from me, please follow these simple steps:**

1. Go to axmuffins .tumblr .com

2. Click "Tell Me a Story"

3. Send me ONE PAIRING and ONE WORD. It can be any pairing; I will write almost anyone. It can be any prompt. BUT THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE. Like Highlander.

Any prompt requests sent to me via review or anything else related to any website that isn't my Tumblr Ask Box will be ignored. Tumblr Only, please.

* * *

><p><strong>Bujeet. Prompt: Bandages<strong>

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><p>(Companion drabble to More Trouble Than it's Worth)<p>

(Yes I'm still alive. Your guys' prompts are hard to work off man :') I'm having a lot of trouble writing them.)

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><p>.<p>

Baljeet sighed.

"Well, it seems it has started oozing again," he stated, almost sadly, as he stared at the stitches in Buford's shoulder. "The fireman told you this would happen if you continued to move like you did."

Buford scoffed, altogether none to happy at that news. "What am I supposed to do, stop playin'? Stop workin' out? Hell no!"

"Buford, your wound will never heal if you keep reopening it under the stitches," Baljeet scolded gently, wetting a cloth with hydrogen peroxide. "Going to football and weight training is only keeping it open. You need to take a break."

"I don't wanna take a break," Buford grumbled, picking at his old, pilling sheets.

Baljeet just sighed gently, carefully pressing the wet cloth against the large, oozing, stitched gash on his boyfriend's shoulder blade. He squeezed some of the peroxide out and let the wound foam a bit before patting it again.

"How about this."

Baljeet looked up at Buford as he was addressed, curiosity on his face.

"For every day I don't work out or participate in football, you help me with ah, a DIFFERENT problem?" Buford continued, looking back over his shoulder with a rather mischievous grin.

Baljeet narrowed his eyes.

"Depends on the kind of problem you are having, Buford," he said cautiously, gently fanning the wet spot on Buford's back.

"You know what kind of problem I have."

The Indian felt his face heat up, and he furrowed his brows.

"No."

Buford couldn't help but chuckle a little. "Oh come on, 'Jeet! Nothin' x-rated, I promise. Just some ah, incentive to stop doin' somethin' else I like doin'," he explained, looking back at the wall.

Baljeet puffed out his cheeks as he picked up the thick gauze roll from the first aid kit.

"What kind of incentive do you have in mind?"

Silently whooping, Buford grinned and continued his proposal, "Extra kisses. Extra kisses that also involve being alone."

The larger boy looked back over his shoulder as Baljeet taped the gauze in place.

"Maybe some touchin' too."

Baljeet literally smacked the medical tape down on Buford's back, earning a hiss and a grumble of pain from the larger male.

"No."

"Ah come oooonnnn," Buford whined, turning around on the bed to face his boyfriend. Baljeet had this utterly adorable pout on his face, and he was trying to put the medical supplies away in this precise fashion and he was just too cute, Buford just HAD to fluster him.

He leaned in close to the smaller boys ear and whispered, "I KNOW ya can't resist when I kiss ya."

Baljeet fumbled terribly with the roll of gauze when Buford's teeth grazed his ear, and it went rolling off the other side of the bed.

"H-hey!"

"C'mon 'Jeet, please?" Buford pleaded gently, "Im gunna die without something to occupy my time and I love kissin you and huggin you and being around you."

The Indian tried to look as utterly annoyed and stubborn as possible, but the deep red in his cheeks and the struggle to keep the flattered expression off his face really gave away how much he wasn't opposed to the idea of spending more intimate moments with Buford. He grumbled a little and rolled his eyes.

"Finnnneee. But I am only agreeing because I want your back to heal ASAP," he finally caved, waving a finger at his boyfriend.

"You mean yer only doin' it cause you love me~" Buford leaned down slightly to give Baljeet a quick kiss, his lips uncontrollably smiley as he did so. To his not-so-surprise, Baljeet resisted for about a second before very willingly melting into it and unwillingly disconnecting from it.

"Yeah, yeah, you are just lucky," Baljeet pouted, finding it hard to keep his smile down as well.


	23. CandaceAlbert Library

**If you would like to request a drabble from me, please follow these simple steps:**

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I will ONLY consider prompts sent to my askbox as candidates for writing. If you send me a prompt ANYWHERE ELSE, it will be ignored.

**NOTE: I have cleared my tumblr askbox of all old prompts.** If you haven't seen your request here yet, please feel free to resubmit. However, I've cleared all prompts because most of them just didn't inspire me.

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><p><strong>anonymous asked: CandaceAlbert: Library**

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><p>.<p>

Entering the Danville Public Library was a practically daily event for Albert, if not at LEAST weekly. He went through fantasy books like candy, not to mention they'd started renting PlayStation and computer games. On days when he didn't have homework, he'd pop in and snag a handful more books, maybe sit and read for a good hour, then head on home. It was a usually uneventful process: the same faces, the same books, the same games, the same walk to and from.

It was certainly weird when he walked in and found Candace Flynn slumped over a Geometry textbook.

She looked really rather helpless, actually; and though it wasn't WEIRD for Candace to be helpless, it was weird for her to look it.

She had her chin on both her palms, her bright orange hair unruly and falling unceremoniously over the top of her fists. Her usually shimmery blue eyes were greyed and sunken, like she hadn't slept in a day. Her lips were lacking in gloss and her cheeks weren't rosy, and yet...

Albert's eyes sparkled.

_Beautiful._

"Hello, fair maiden," He cooed, straightening his back as he stopped at her side. Her sleepless eyes rolled up to gaze on him and he could feel his heart flutter lightly.

"Please help me," Candace all but whispered, her chin slipping on her palms. "You're smart right? Please teach me geometry."

Albert's chest swelled as he dropped his heavy backpack. "Fear not," he started, hoping his knight-like speech would give her some relief, "I might as well have passed geometry while I was sleeping."

"No time for sleep, my final is tomorrow and I can't seem to get any of this," Candace grumbled, scooting over in her chair to allow room for Albert to pull over his own.

"Aren't your brothers geniuses? Why didn't you just ask them for help?" Albert asked gently, pulling over her textbook and flipping through it to the first few chapters.

"Normally I would, but," Candace sighed heavily and set her chin on the table, "Idunno. Something kinda hurts when your little brothers know more than you do about everything."

The nerd's heart ached a little.

"Not to worry fair maiden, you now have a bona-fied mathlete on your side," he leaned over slightly and raised his brows, "_And_ I'm a year older than you."

Candace raised her head slightly. "How do you know _that_?"

"Unimportant!" Albert smiled and cracked his knuckles, holding down his internal squeeing. It wasn't everyday _the_ cute girl asked for his help in _anything_, much less something he was so good at.

Maybe his chance had finally come.


End file.
